Ode to a Love Forgotten

I met the dear Ophelia

Upon the western stair

Through some columns of transport

Into the wild air.


The whipping wind blew thru her hair

While her eyes were infused with joy

But like a flower withering

Her heart did black employ.


“Save me from that death!” she screamed.

“The forlorn death of a lover,

For upon the wakening of the sun

Flies forth, that plumed plover.”


“My heart soars away,

My lover in madness wrought.

Forever gone from my bosom.

To fall, to die, I ought.”


I opened my mouth to comfort her

But not a sound progressed.

And with the rising of a sun,

Her protests did arrest.


And with a scream of agony,

She disappeared and was gone.

And her cry was not of pain,

But because the madness of one so fond.


I saw the girl Ophelia,

Upon the western stair.

Her lovely face was happy ever,

But only with sweet Hamlet there.